


love is a burning flame

by callunavulgari



Series: Ring of Fire [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Multi, Next Life fic, Polyamory, Reincarnation, Slice of Life, Soulmates, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Roxas, you’re going to have to accept some things about having two older lovers...” you start, completely monotonous, before he cuts you off with a raised eyebrow and a grin. “That the two of you are horny all the fucking time?” You sigh. “Well, I was going to say that everything isn’t always about sex, but I guess that’s true enough.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	love is a burning flame

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was going to be cutesy slice-of-life but also have some semblance of a plot. Then I got hella sick and had to scramble to post this while it's still Axel/Roxas/Xion day. Whoops. Still cutesy slice-of-life though.

Xion uses VO5 tea therapy shampoo. It’s shit shampoo, little better than the kind of off-brand shit you get at CVS when you really need to conserve money, but she tells you that she doesn’t give a shit because it smells fantastic—that her hair always smells like green tea so she could care less that the crap is giving her split ends.  
  
“And anyway,” she says haughtily, kicking her legs back and forth against the breakfast bar, “Everyone knows that it doesn’t matter how shitty the shampoo is as long as the conditioner kicks ass.”  
  
You clutch your heart and gasp, as if scandalized, and make a swooning motion that has you nearly toppling onto the sizzling skillet in front of you. She laughs as you right yourself, flipping the bacon carefully. It hisses and spits hot grease at you. “That isn’t true and you know it,” you say, pointing the spatula at her.  
  
“It is!” she insists, widening her eyes. “Everybody says so!”  
  
“Nope, nope, nope. It doesn’t matter how badass a conditioner is, if you’ve got harsh-ass shampoo going into your hair it’s still gonna fuck it up. Also, you use the same brand of conditioner anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”  
  
She pouts at you, running a hand through the rats nest atop her head. It’s standing on all ends today, the back matted to her scalp the way it does whenever she’s either tossed and turned too much or had some really mind-blowing sex. “Whatever,” she finally says as you’re transferring some of the bacon onto a plate. “I still like it.”  
  
You roll your eyes. “It’s your hair, chica. Do whatcha want with it, I’m just saying, I’m not touching that swill.”  
  
She flips you the bird, munching happily on a stolen piece of bacon. “You gonna pick Rox up today?” you ask, cracking an egg onto the still hot skillet and leaning quickly away when it hisses and spits at you. Hah, denied.  
  
She swallows and wipes her mouth, smearing bacon grease across her face. “You know, it’s never not gonna be creepy that we pick him up from school. The other day one of the teacher’s directing traffic asked if I was his mom.”  
  
You stare at her as she shudders—relatively flat chest, tiny athletic build, not a hint of grey in her hair, and certainly no wrinkles—a sister you could understand, but a mom?  
  
“There is no fucking way that teacher had his head screwed on straight, you look twelve.”  
  
She glares and swats at you. “Dude, seriously,” you tell her, so offended on her behalf that you almost forget to flip the eggs. Oh well, so they’re over well instead of over easy, whatever. “You get carded everywhere—last month when we went to see that alien movie some old lady asked if I was taking my little sister to the movies, it’s ridiculous.”  
  
“Welp,” she says. “People do look a lot younger nowadays. Except for the middle schoolers. The twelve year olds look like they’re going on twenty and the twenty-somethings look like they’re in elementary school.” She sighs as you set a plate in front of her.  
  
For a couple minutes, the two of you eat in companionable silence before she nudges you and says, “Yeah, I am picking him up today.”  
  
It is weird as hell, that he’s just now hitting seventeen. Age of consent be damned, you still feel like a creeper waiting in the high school parking lot for him to get out of class. You know Xion feels the same damn way.  
  
It’s been ten months since the two of you found Roxas—long enough for the two of you to get a quasi-decent apartment only fifteen minutes away from Roxas’ part of town and settle into new jobs. Xion’s got a pretty cushy one downtown—some tea place. Apparently all the patrons love her. You’re waiting at a steakhouse around the corner from Roxas’ school and though you make fantastic money, you’re dreading the day that Roxas’ family gets a craving for steak.  
  
You’ve got a routine when it comes to Roxas which is actually pretty simple: if one of you are off when he gets out of school, you pick him up and he stays for as late as Sora can cover for him.  
  
It’s pleasant. Weird, because you still have hazy memories of heartless and keyblades and war, but this world seems to be relatively quiet when it comes to the supernatural. You watch tv, surf the internet, go to bars, read books, and spend time with two people you thought you’d lost for good a lifetime ago.  
  
You’re still waiting for the other shoe to drop.  
  
.  
  
They’re watching tv on the couch when you get home. Well, upon further inspection, Roxas is watching tv—Xion is curled up in a ball next to him, her head in his lap, and snoring softly as he does his best not to move a muscle. You chuckle, tossing your keys into the little seashell you keep on the table by the front door. He cranes his head over his shoulder, looking for the source of the sound and just, smiles, brilliant and bright enough that your heart throbs in your chest. You sound like a teenaged girl, but if they aren’t the most beautiful things in the world, you don’t know what is.  
  
“When did she fall asleep?” you whisper, dropping a kiss on his brow as you walk by. The laundry is still sitting on the chair where you left it, making it easy to shed your smelly work clothes and wriggle into a pair of clean sweats. You still kind of smell like steak sauce, the scent clinging to your skin like a gross perfume, but it isn’t overwhelming anymore.  
  
He snorts and for the first time you notice that he’s stroking her hair. “Like an hour after I got here. I swear, she’s got narcolepsy. Whenever I’m over she ends up sleeping on me.”  
  
You finish tugging a t-shirt over your shoulders and try to slide in next to him as quietly as possible. She shifts a little, but otherwise keeps snoring. The both of you heave a sigh of relief. “She likes naps,” you say after a minute, shrugging. “It’s her version of taking an awesome bath together or going on a candlelit dinner, very romantic.”  
  
He chuckles quietly. “I never remember her being this sleepy before.”  
  
“Well,” you start, leaning in so that your head is resting on his shoulder. “The two of you did sleep a lot back then. You just weren’t used to being sleep deprived.”  
  
He knocks his head against yours, gently, and you just know he’s glaring at you. “Dude, we went on a mission to go kill a shit ton of heartless that lasted for an _entire week_. Don’t talk to me about being sleep deprived.”  
  
You laugh and reach over to ruffle his hair. It still weirds you out a little, how dark his hair and skin are in this life, how different it is. You stare at the tv for a minute, basking in his warmth before what you’re looking at registers.  
  
“Wait, is this Shark Week? She fell asleep during Shark Week? Oh my god, please tell me this is recording, she’ll cry if she’s missed something.”  
  
The red light seems to be on, which has you huffing out a sigh of relief. Damn, she must have been tired.  
  
“So, uh,” he says, shifting next to you. “I take it this means no sex today?”  
  
You blink at him. “Roxas, you’re going to have to accept some things about having two older lovers...” you start, completely monotonous, before he cuts you off with a raised eyebrow and a grin.  
  
“That the two of you are horny all the fucking time?”  
  
You sigh. “Well, I was going to say that everything isn’t always about sex, but I guess that’s true enough.”  
  
The two of you blink down at Xion, still sleeping peacefully in Roxas’ lap. She does look pretty exhausted. Briefly, you consider leaving her on the couch to nap and dragging Roxas away into the bedroom, but you quickly nix that idea.  
  
“She’d kill us if we snuck off without her, wouldn’t she?” Roxas says mournfully. Clearly you two are on the same wavelength.  
  
“Yep,” you say, watching as a great white devours a seal on tv. She’d make shark week look mild. “There are other ways of waking her up though.”  
  
.  
  
It isn’t actually all about sex with the three of you. Sometimes the three of you go on romantic dates, take long walks, help Roxas with his bullshit high school level chemistry. When you do have sex, it isn’t always the three of you either. Hell, you and Xion live together—you share the same bed, the two of you tend to have more sex with each other than with Roxas, and that’s just the way the dice rolls. It isn’t abnormal to wake up in the middle of the night to Xion sliding onto your dick, period hormones driving her insane. Sometimes you think it isn’t fair to Roxas, but then you remember that he’s still sixteen and living with his parents.  
  
You know that Xion and Roxas have sex on their own, especially on the nights that you work the late shift and he has to go home before you get back. The same is true the other way around—the tea shop is open until three am, so sometimes it’s just you and Roxas alone in the apartment.  
  
While it isn’t rare for the three of you to be there at one time, it definitely doesn’t happen as often as any of you would like.  
  
It takes three minutes for her to gasp awake, two seconds for her to realize it’s you with your face between her legs, and another minute until she’s awake enough to gasp, “screw you guys,” and fist her hands in your hair.  
  
.  
  
Touching them is still just as much of a startled pleasure as it was the first time. That first time in Xion’s car along the side of the road, both of you exhausted and wrecked and still searching frantically for Roxas had been awkward and borderline terrible, but the freedom of touching her skin at long last—that was breathtaking. When the two of you had first touched him in the hotel you stayed at for the first week you had been cautious and careful, guilty because of his age, but uncaring once you got him beneath you. It had been perfect—the long stretch of his body, puppy fat still clinging to his belly, thighs, and cheeks—unfamiliar, because for all that they belonged to you and you to them, in that first life, the three of you had never touched.  
  
Xion whimpered when you kissed him, you remember that, her fingers fisted in the sheets and he had clung to you, twisted his own fingers up in your hair and yanked you closer, as close as the two of you could get. Kissing him felt like coming home, like fire blazing back to life in your chest. You and Xion were always close back then, but there had always been something about Roxas you couldn’t give each other.  
  
After the two of you had found him, you had started breathing again.  
  
You’d let go of him eventually, pushed him into her arms and listened to the desperate little noise she’d made when their lips had met.  
  
It had been awkward, first times always were, especially when clouded with so much emotion—so much desire and desperation spilling out of the three of you. He’d come too fast, just your hand brushing his dick and Xion’s lips trailing kisses down his neck, and he’d blushed, embarrassed, until you had kissed the flush away. The two of you were more experienced, and more importantly, you weren’t virgins, so it was easy enough to kiss and tease each other until he was hard again.  
  
It remains your favorite sexual encounter from either of your lives, that first time the three of you came together.  
  
Now the three of you have it down to an almost science—sometimes competing with each other to see who can make who come first—it’s fantastic. You play the two of them like a piano, just skin and sweat and gasps into the dark.  
  
You win the game a lot—not because the two of them are less experienced, but because you’re entirely too competitive, too focused on making them feel good to come yourself. That’s okay though, because it means they both pounce on you after, still panting and grinning, sleepy and sated, and press every inch of their skin to yours until you finally come.  
  
.  
  
Sora calls fifteen minutes into the afterglow, making Roxas sigh as you lean across Xion to grope for his phone. You set the phone on Xion’s collarbone and thumb it onto speaker, slurring a greeting into it as you go.  
  
Sora groans. “Ugh, you guys just had sex, didn’t you?”  
  
“Prude,” Xion chirps, giggling, just as Roxas says, “Don’t sound so scandalized, I know where you’ve been.”  
  
“It’s different when you’re my little brother,” Sora insists, sputtering. “Anyway, thought you should know. I’m studying at Riku’s all night and Mom thinks you’re with me, so, have fun! And remember, no hickies where Mom can see them, you’ll never hear the end of it.”  
  
“Wait,” you say suddenly, sitting up so fast that you accidentally elbow Xion in the side. “So we get him all night?”  
  
“Yep! Maybe have him do a little studying in case Mom asks, but other than that, you can have your wicked way with him until sometime tomorrow afternoon.”  
  
“I am still here,” Roxas sighs, but the effect is somewhat lost due to the shit-eating grin on his face.  
  
“Anyhow! I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow, capiche?”  
  
Just like that, he hangs up. “Tomorrow afternoon!” Xion cheers, punching a fist into the air that narrowly misses your noise. “Know what that means? We get to take you to brunch!”  
  
“Know what else that means?” Roxas grins cheekily. “Round two.”  
  
You’re still waiting for the other shoe to drop.  
  
But, you think as Roxas presses the two of you back down into the sheets, you might as well enjoy the moment. And when the bottom does drop out from beneath you, you’ll be ready.  
  



End file.
